Come Once Again and Love Me
by Jane Krahe
Summary: Gretel makes a decision that sets off something new in Hansel, and forces him to examine his feelings for his sister. Trigger Warnings for: discussion of medieval/herbal abortion, brother/sister incest. This is a two-part fic. Second chapter coming soon.


Hansel set two pints of ale on the table and plopped down into his chair. He slid the map towards himself and said, "Frost is starting to settle in the north and east; we should head that way. The villages up that there'll be less guarded; the harvest season is done and everyone's shutting themselves up for winter. Witch season." He gave a smirk, eying the road. He knew of a couple taverns along the way that he'd found luck in, ladies with easy smiles and open arms.

When there was no response, he looked up. His sister Gretel was staring into her ale, her long, thin fingers curled loosely around the stein. He frowned slightly; the look on her face was strange and unfamiliar. It shouldn't be unfamiliar. "Gretel?" he prompted, voice a bit more serious.

She raised her eyebrows, but it took a few more moments before she was able to turn her gaze and focus on him. "Hmm? Oh, that... sounds fine," she replied.

Hansel's frown deepened. "Gretel," he said again, this time a chiding note in his voice. "Tell me what's on your mind."

She stared at him, chewing her lip in an uncharacteristic show of.. of what? Nervousness? Reluctance? He was starting to worry and he scooted his chair closer, the legs creaking across the coarse wooden floor of the inn's tavern. He placed a hand on her wrist. "Gretel," he repeated, voice softer.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I'm going to need to take a detour," she said. Her tongue prodded at a cut on the corner of her lip, souvenir from the latest job. "It's going to take about two weeks. I'll need you to stay in town while I do. Wait for me."

Hansel stared at her for a moment, then barked a laugh. "What?" They hadn't been separated for more than a night since... well, since that first witch. "Come on, Gretel, that's ridiculous, you -"

Gretel snatched her hand away from him and snapped, "I have fucking business to take care of, Hansel. Deal with it." She stood and stormed off for stairs, heading for their room. He stared after her, dumbfounded for a long moment before he managed to stand and follow her.

She was standing at the tiny, filthy window, staring at its soot-covered glass. Her arms were crossed, her back to him and rigid. He shut the door softly behind him and stepped further into the room. "Gretel," he said, holding out his hands as he approached. "You know if you need something, then I'll help you do it. But you can't just tell me you're gonna disappear on me for two fucking weeks and not tell me why. Come on."

She took another deep breath; he watched her shoulders move, her back flex. Without turning she spoke, her voice flat. "I'm going to be at an herbalist's cottage in the woods. I'm with child."

There was a frightening moment where Hansel went so cold and still that, had a witch attacked, he would have been struck down without even landing a blow. He would have to examine the lapse later, but just then his entire being had focused in on what Gretel had just said. With child. She was with child.

Of course, he knew he couldn't be the only one of the two of them who had his fun with strangers in taverns. Gretel didn't always come back to their rooms smelling of just her own leather and ale. It happened far less frequently than his own dalliances, but it happened. He knew it happened. But knowing it and actively thinking about it were two different things and for the first time, the full weight of it hit him. He saw in clear, vivid color and in a blinding flash, a string of nameless, faceless men, their hot breath and filthy hands, tongues flicking out like snakes. All of it sullying his sister's pale, perfect flesh. The cold was replaced with a white hot rage and grabbed her, spinning her around and forcing her to look at him. "Who was it?" he snarled, and the sound of his own voice helped him push back some of the anger. It didn't sound like himself.

She glared up at him, a high pink flush in her cheeks, the burning mark of shame, but her eyes met his squarely. "It was six weeks ago," she said, clearly fighting to keep her voice steady. "That witch in Fallhaven. She knocked you twenty feet onto your ass and you were passed out in our room. It was..." she faltered for the first time, eyes darting away. "It was just some huntsman in the tavern. He was selling these gorgeous fox pelts and he offered me an ale." She looked back up at him. "It doesn't matter. I'm taking care of it."

"And this herbalist," he demanded, still gripping her arms a bit too tight. "What is she going to do?"

Gretel gave him a withering look. "What do you think she's going to do, Hansel? She's going to help me end it."

Hansel was shaking and he had no idea why. This shouldn't be a problem; it was common practice, particularly among the sort of women he himself bedded. They'd even discussed this possibility before; years ago when she'd been a girl and her first cycle had come. A kind midwife had explained her womanhood to her and had told her all the possibilities and dangers that came with it. She had decided then that this was the path she'd take, if she were to fall pregnant.

But all he can think about is filthy, calloused hands pressing his sister into a strange bed, and the image makes his insides freeze. Still, he nodded jerkily and released her. "Why two weeks?" he asked, jaw clenched. "I know about these things; it should only take a couple of days."

As he watched, she blinked, and a tear spilled over her lashes, trailing down her pale cheek. He hadn't even realized she was crying; she didn't seem to know either. "Because she's going to make me barren so it doesn't happen again," she said, and her voice was tired, so tired.

This... this was something they had never discussed. "A-are you sure?" he asked, more than a little stunned.

Another tear fell but she nodded. "I am. This is what I want."

Hansel took a slow breath to steady himself. It didn't work. He nodded though, and said, "Alright. I'll wait here for you. As long as you need."

She gave him a watery, grateful smile. There were tear tracks on her face and he wanted desperately to wipe them away, see her clean again.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

It was the longest two weeks of his life. Hansel had never had so much time to just do nothing. And the absence of his sister was like a persistent, distracting headache. He was unable to settle to anything, and got in more than a few fights in the tavern. He drank himself to sleep more nights than not, and even then it took a long time, and the lack of his sister's even breathing near him woke him up often.

He met her at the end of the two weeks at the mouth of a long road that led into the woods. The day was misty and gray and he was there far earlier than necessary. He waited for over an hour but soon there she was, trudging up the road with a small, waddling figure beside her. Something inside him unclenched at the sight and he grinned, barely restraining himself from running forward to swing her up in his arms. The only thing that stopped him was the painful way she was walking.

When she reached him, his smile faded to a concerned frown at the state of her. She was tired and her normally porcelain skin had an ashy hue to it. There were dark smudges under her eyes and she looked like she'd lost a pound or two. But she gave him a small smile and he hugged her gently with one arm, the other still holding tight to the reigns of the horse he'd brought. It was drawing a small cart and though he'd thought she would scoff at him for that, seeing how weak she looked made him deeply glad he'd brought it.

The little woman, plump and wrinkled, with an odd, frazzled crown of iron gray hair, spoke in a high, reedy voice. "You need to rest up for another day or so," she said. "And then keep your travel slow. Give yourself time to properly heal." She patted Gretel's hand and Gretel smiled gratefully. "You take care of yourself, girl."

"I will," Gretel replied, and the croak of her voice made Hansel wince. "Thank you." She turned and slowly pulled herself up into the cart. Hansel knew better than to try and help. He gave a polite nod to the old woman and climbed up onto the bench. He snapped the reigns and took them back to town.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Hansel got Gretel settled into the bed and then went down to the tavern. He ordered hot soup, bread, and tea and brought it back up to her on a tray. She lay propped up on the pillows, a hand resting low on her abdomen. He set the tray in her lap and she smiled weakly.

Hansel sat down on the floor, his back against the bed, and began to clean his guns. The room was silent for awhile as Gretel ate. But slowly the scarping of her spoon stopped, and in the stillness, she spoke.

"Hansel," she said, and he was glad to hear that she sounded better already, "why has this never happened to you?"

He cocked an eyebrow, though she couldn't see it. "I uh, I'm not sure I've got the right parts for this particular problem, sis."

She smacked him on the back of the head, as he'd known she would, and he smiled. "No, dumbass," she said, voice warm. "I mean, why haven't you ever had to take some bar wench to an herbalist like this? I mean... unless you did and you just didn't tell me..." She trailed off but it was clear that the idea hurt her.

He shook his head. "No, I've never had to do that."

"Why?" she prompted.

His ears turned pink and he fumbled his gun a little. He really didn't want to discuss this but he knew his sister; she'd never leave it alone. "I uh..." he cleared his throat and fuck, he was really blushing now, he could feel it. "I don't... I never spill my seed... um, inside of them..." He hunched forward a little, glad she couldn't see his face.

She was silent for a moment. Then, "...oh." Her voice was soft, almost embarrassed.

For a moment, he wasn't sure why. Then it hit him. She hadn't taken that precaution. She'd let some man, some _stranger_, press her into a bed and stick his cock in her and spill his seed and -

Leather creaked and Hansel looked down. He was gripping his gun so tightly that his knuckles were white, and now that he was aware, he could feel the pain of the metal digging into his fingers. He let out a slow breath and cautiously released his grip on the weapon. He set it aside with shaking hands. Maybe now wasn't the best time for gun cleaning.

He drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, laying his head down. Fuck, what was wrong with him? This had never bothered him before. His sister was a grown woman; she could do and say and fuck whoever and whatever she wanted. It was none of his business and he shouldn't be this angry over it.

Her slim, cool fingers slid into his hair, stroking his scalp. He leaned back into the touch instinctively but for the first time ever, it didn't soothe him. Instead, it awakened some odd, twitchy feeling under his skin, something warm and squirming and something he knew instinctively to be very, _very_ bad.

He didn't sleep at all that night.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

They set out for the north two days later. It was drizzling a bit but he'd bought that cart with the money they'd earned on their last couple of hunts and made Gretel sit up on the bench with him, wrapped in a hooded cloak to keep the damp off. She leaned on him heavily for most of the day, and slept for some of the ride, dozing on his shoulder, her nose brushing his neck and making him shiver. By the time they'd reached the next village, she was awake and a fair bit less pale than before. She still went right to bed once they were settled into their room though. He slept on the floor, her arm hanging off the bed, fingers brushing his back.

Two more days and she was ready for a hunt. At least, she said she was, and Hansel knew better than to argue. They took on a weak hedgewitch and Gretel did just fine, saving Hansel from the witch's meat cleaver and lighting the bitch on fire. Hansel told himself he had his sister back, good as new, she was fine and he had no more reason to lie awake at night.

Slowly, things went back to... well, if not normal, then their usual routine. They made their way north where the frost had drawn the witches out, and worked their way east from there. Slowly, he let himself forget the herbalist and his sister's weeks away from him. That change was still there though, that needling under his skin when she touched him, and he couldn't figure it out. For awhile, he worried it was disgust over his sister's actions, but he knew that couldn't be it; there was nothing she could do to invoke that in him. But he had trouble sleeping and was quicker to anger. Still, he had his sister and they had work to do; he could deal with it.

Two months on from his sister's recovery, winter set in hard and fast. They needed to find a place to hole up during the worst of the snows. They debated about where to go and finally settled on a large village with a well-stocked inn. They paid for a month and settled into their room.

It was big and had a bed that would fit both of them. It had been years since they'd actually shared a bed, but it was also the first time they'd managed to find an inn with one big enough, and Gretel said it was a godsend. The winter was even more bitingly cold than usual, and neither of them were up to sleeping on the floor in that chill.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Hansel stood at the bar, drinking warm mead and studying a map. There were areas south and east of them that they hadn't been; villages with new people and new witches... and new barmaids. He smirked a little to himself, glancing around. Unfortunately, the tavern where they'd decided to spend the deep winter was run by a man and his plump little wife, and their children, the oldest of whom was fifteen. And male. Only a couple of other travelers had stopped for the winter and none of them were Hansel's type. He sighed and resigned himself to four or five celibate weeks.

A tray was placed in front of him and he looked up and smiled. Still, the landlord's wife was an excellent cook. He nodded his thanks to her and hefted the tray, heading up to their room. He opened the door then stopped. "Ah! Sorry," he said, turning quickly around.

"Shut the door," his sister chided calmly. She was sitting in a metal tub in the center of the room, stroking a large sponge over her arm. He shut the door then moved to set the tray on the bed, moving so that he never faced her directly.

He set the tray down and said, "Um, I uh... should I go?"

"Nonsense," came the reply, as he knew it would. Gretel had never been shy, especially not around him. Normally it wouldn't have bothered him either, but that twitching, aggravating thing was beneath his skin again, and he wasn't sure he could breathe. "Here; get my back." She held out the sponge and Hansel turned automatically.

Gretel sat in a tub of steaming water, cloudy from soap and oils. It smelled like honeysuckle. Her hair was loosely piled on top of her head and pinned, and her skin had a pink tinge to it, warmed by the water. He swallowed but took the sponge and knelt down next to the tub. She sat up, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her cheek on her knee. Her eyes fell closed as he carefully wrapped his fingers around her upper arm and began to stroke the sponge over her shoulders and down her spine.

"I like this inn," she murmured, her lashes dark against her cheeks. "We should try to winter here every year."

"Yes," Hansel replied, though there was a choked sound in his voice. Gretel didn't seem to notice.

"Find any willing young bar wenches?" she joked.

He cleared his throat. "No," he replied, watching the soap bubbles slide down her back. "I think the roads are too hard for people to travel now. Who's here is who's here; no one new is gonna be coming, not til those snows melt."

She nodded and he let the sponge slip from his fingers into the water. He watched her for another long moment before standing and grabbing the large sheet of linen she had set aside. He held it out for her and turned his head away, closing his eyes. He heard her stand and step out of the tub. A moment later the cloth was tugged from his fingers and when he looked, she had it wrapped around herself. He swallowed, watching a bead of water slide down her neck. "There's uh... dinner," he said, jerking his head in the direction of the tray.

"Oh good, I'm starving," she said with fervor, heading over and tearing into the bread.

"Yeah," he said, eyes on her bent back. "Me, too."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Sleeping next to Gretel wasn't something he'd done in a long time. But the bed was big and soft and so damn warm with her heat next to him. He woke up once in that first night and found he had taken hold of one of her hands and was cradling it to his chest like a child with a doll. He couldn't bring himself to let go and when he woke the next morning, it was the best night's sleep he'd had in ages. Even better, he woke to a hot tray of food sitting outside their door, and an offer to refill the tub so he could bathe. Gretel had been right – he fucking loved that inn.

Gretel and he went downstairs to the tavern everyday for at least a few hours. The couple who ran the inn were friendly and funny and the huge fireplace was warm and inviting. It was incredibly nice to just sit in front of it and talk, to tell stories of their hunts and laugh at each other. It was the most relaxed he'd felt in so long that he was starting to wonder why he'd been so tense the past few weeks. He had his sister, a full belly and a warm bed. Life was damn good.

He trundled down the stairs on their sixth day there, late in the morning, rubbing his eyes and wondering if it was too early for a mug of warm mead. He smiled a little at the sound of Gretel's laugh and headed to the bar, ordering two mugs. He turned and headed further into the tavern – and froze.

Gretel wasn't waiting for him in front of the fire. She was sitting at a table off the to side. Across from her was a man he hadn't seen before; not one of the guests they'd met since their arrival. He was younger than the other patrons, about their own age. He had wavy, honey brown hair and eyes the glinted green even from across the room. Gretel's eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed, and she was laughing at whatever this strange man had just said. Hansel heard the clinking of metal and looked down to find his hands shaking. He took a deep breath and forced them to still, then put on a smile that didn't come anywhere near his eyes, and headed over.

"So this bear comes charging out of the woods," the man was saying, hands moving. "My buddy Reg is standing there, no pants, drunk as a skunk and covered in sap. The bear stops in front of him and roars, and Reg goes, 'Hey!... did you drink my mead?!'"

Gretel laughed, a bright, gleeful cackle, her head falling back. The man was smiling but Hansel watched those green eyes trace the column of Gretel's pale throat, down to the edge of her bodice. Hansel stepped forward and set the mugs down hard on the table. He slid onto the bench next to Gretel, putting his arm up around the back of the booth, pressing tight against her. He smiled his cool, unamused smile again and said, "Hey Gretel; who's your friend?"

Hansel felt Gretel stiffen next to him, anger etched in the line of her body. The man was looking between them, frowning a bit. "This is your... brother?" the man said slowly, and there was an odd edge to his voice.

"Yes," Gretel said, voice tight. "Forgive him; our mother dropped him on his head as a baby."

Hansel winced internally, though he didn't allow it to show on his face. That was a low blow, mentioning their mother. He supposed he probably deserved it, but he didn't trust this guy. His eyes had glittered with dark promise as they watched Gretel. Of course now, his eyes held a wary sort of distrust, and something else. Something unpleasant. Quite suddenly, the man stood. "I should get back," he said. "I've other errands to run. It was... nice to meet you, Gretel." He turned and left before Gretel could call him back.

"Aw, too bad he – gah, _fuck_!" Hansel doubled over as a sharp elbow jabbed him in the ribs.

Gretel struggled out of the booth, almost knocking the table over. "You're an asshole, Hansel," she snapped, storming off to the stairs.

He sighed and grabbed the mugs, following her. "I'm sorry," he said, even as she was slamming the door in his face. He leaned against it, holding the two sticky mugs and feeling incredibly guilty. But also not regretting it in the least. "Gretel," he said, voice a bit softer. "I'm sorry, okay? I hadn't seen the guy before and I just didn't want any trouble, alright? I was looking out for you."

"If you weren't having fun, then I couldn't either, you mean," Gretel snapped, her voice a little muffled through the door. "It's not my fault there's no women here for you to talk into bed."

Hansel's mouth twisted and he tried to think of something to say. He couldn't explain what he'd just done, not even to himself. So finally he just said, "I brought you some mead."

There was silence for a long moment. But then the latch clicked and the door opened. He turned and grinned at Gretel. "I hate you," she pouted, though it was clear her anger was already waning.

"I love you, too," Hansel replied, and held out one of the mugs for her.

She eyed it but took it, unable to keep a small smile from curving her full lips. "You're still a jerk," she said, stepping back to let him in.

"I know," he said, shutting the door behind him.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Hansel lay awake that night, his arms behind his head, listening to Gretel breathe. It was still bothering him, still playing over and over in his mind, but he couldn't figure out what he'd been thinking. "Gretel?" he said softly.

She shifted and breathed out, "What?", sounding a little annoyed.

"Who was that creep anyway?"

Gretel huffed and turned over onto her back, looking over at him. "He wasn't a creep," she said, voice low and admonishing. "His name was Fen and he runs an apothecary; his shop is here in town. He was bringing the landlord's wife medicine for her bad knees. And I was just talking to him. He wasn't even staying the night. Do I have to remind you that you're an asshole?" She turned back over, facing away from him and he bit his lip to hide a smile.

It didn't matter. Fen wasn't the one here with Gretel. He was.

And then that thought shocked him so badly that he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He placed his feet on the cold floor, trying to ground himself.

"Oh what now?" Gretel snapped, shifting on the bed.

"Uh... gotta piss," he said, voice rough. "Go to sleep; I'll be back in a minute." He stood and stumbled his way out of the room and down to the tavern, not really seeing where he was going.

It was late and he was the only one there when he leaned heavily on the bar, eyes wide and blank. "You look like you've seen a ghost." He jumped and looked up. The inn keeper's wife was there, wiping down the bar.

"Just a bad dream," he replied, pulling himself onto a stool.

"Well, I'm heading to bed," the woman said. "But I can pour you a nice ale before I go."

"Yes, thank you," Hansel muttered. He lowered his head into his hands. He saw a stein slide onto the bar in the periphery of his vision, but he didn't reach for it. His mind was tumbling in confused, panicked, terrified jumbles, thought tripping over thought, completely unable to make sense of any of it. He couldn't have thought that. It couldn't have been why he'd chased off that creep. Was this some kind of sick jealousy? Possessiveness? Had the unpleasantness of their life finally caught up to him? Was he going mad? He reached for the stein just to have something to do with his hands. This wasn't right. There had to be another explanation.

He awoke hours later, his cheek stuck to the bar with drool and ale, his back aching, his legs asleep. "Hey," came Gretel's voice as he sat up, wiping his cheek with a hand and looking around blearily. "Are you feeling okay? You never made it back to bed last night." She sat down beside him at the bar then slid her hand into the back of his hair and leaned up. She kissed his forehead then let her mouth linger there on his skin. Their mother had always said to check for fever with your lips, not your hands, because your lips were more sensitive.

He shook his head and she pulled away. "I'm fine, get off," he said, no real heat behind it. "Mother hen."

She smiled at him and motioned at the old woman, asking for tea. "You look like shit," she said.

He leaned his elbows on the bar and turned his head to look at her. Her hair was gleaming, brushed back and plaited loosely with a leather cord. Her skin was pale and perfect, cheeks rosey. Her eyes glittered with warmth. "You look beautiful," he said, voice low and unbidden. Her expression went confused for a moment but then she smiled at him, warm and pleased.

The pot of tea was set down between them a bit harder than was necessary. Hansel looked up and saw not the old woman but her husband, the inn keeper. "I think it's about time you two should move on," he said, voice tart and pointed. "Word is the roads are clear enough for travel."

Gretel frowned. "But we paid for two more weeks," she said.

"You can get your coin back," the man said, and there was a real edge to his voice now. "But we like clean folk here, in this inn and in this town, and people like you ain't gonna find anything you want here."

Hansel stared at the man, confused and offended. "People like us?" he said. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" The man looked at Gretel and so did Hansel. But when he turned and caught her expression, he stopped. There was understanding there. She knew what this crazy old badger was talking about. And she didn't look happy about it.

"We can be gone by noon," she said stiffly. "Long as you square with us, give us back the gold you owe us, then we can leave. We'll find lodgings in another town."

"You do that," the man snapped and turned, heading off.

Hansel stared after the man, frowning in confusion, a headache starting to throb in one temple. "Gretel -"

"Later," she cut him off sharply. "Let's get packed and ready to go."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Hansel finished tying the canvas over the cart, securing their things under it. The inn keeper had been right; the snows on the roads were gone, and it seemed like spring was coming early. Still, the man's sudden shift rankled him. What the hell had they done to cause it?

A small hand rested on his arm and he turned to find the inn keeper's wife standing there, holding a cloth-covered basket out to him. "I'm sorry about my husband," she said, and she clearly meant it. "I packed some food for you, mostly hard cheese and bread, some dried meats."

He took it and gave her a small, crooked smile. "Thanks," he said, just as sincerely.

She nodded, then glanced around, as if not wanting to be overheard. Then she leaned in and said in a low voice, "All the lives you've saved, you deserve whatever peace you can get. Even if it's ill-gotten."

Hansel... had no idea what that meant. But she just patted his arm, smiled, and headed back inside. He stared after her for a long moment, then shrugged and tucked the basket under the bench in the front, climbing up to wait for Gretel. He didn't have long. A moment later the inn door banged open and she came striding out, cheeks flushed with anger. The inn keeper came to the door and yelled, "And I hope you choke on it, you filthy harlot!"

"Fuck you, old man!" Gretel snarled back. She pulled herself up onto the bench before Hansel could react, and snapped at him, "Let's go, I'm sick of this fucking place."

He snapped the reigns without hesitation and guided horse and cart onto the road and away from the inn.

The ride out of town was tense and silent. Gretel sat with her legs and arms tightly crossed, stiff backed and glaring ahead of them. Hansel waited for over an hour, until they were well into the woods before speaking. "So," he said, voice overly loud in the quiet woods. "You wanna tell me what that was about?"

"No," she snapped, and the tone of her voice made it clear she didn't want to talk about anything else either. He let it go.

He drove until nightfall, when he finally broached the icy silence and suggested they make camp. Gretel had nodded, a bit less tense than before, and he found them a small cave to sleep in. It was dry and the snow around it had melted, so there was wood for a fire and a place to sit by it.

Gretel was quite the entire time he fixed the fire and passed out bread and cheese between them. He watched her, watched the flames glinting off her hair and eyes, making them glitter. "Gretel?" he finally ventured, an hour after they'd settled in.

She clenched her jaw. "He thought we were fucking," she said, voice harsh and cold.

Hansel's hand froze halfway to his mouth, dropping the piece of bread in it. "What?" he croaked.

She raised her eyes, the dark of them flashing in the firelight. "He knew we were brother and sister, and he thought we were fucking each other; that's why he wanted us to leave." Then she stood up and spat, "It was your stupid stunt with that Fen guy; he thought you were acting like a jealous lover!"

"Oh, so this is my fault?" Hansel said angrily, cheeks going red. Trying to ignore the thousands of images his mind had conjured up. "I try to protect my sister from some creep and that means I'm fucking her?!" He stood as well, staring her down, meeting her furious gaze with his own. "Fuck you, Gretel, I was looking out for you. It's not my fault that inn keeper was a pervert."

They stood glaring at each other for a long moment, tense stances mirrored with clenched hands. But finally, she relaxed slightly. "I know," she said, voice sullen. "I know, I'm sorry. It's not your fault."

Shame and guilt were churning hot and sick in Hansel's stomach but he nodded. "I'm sorry he kicked us out," he said. "But we'll be fine. We can get another room in the next village, okay? I'll even get two separate rooms if you -"

"No," she cut him off sharply. Then seemed to realize what she'd done and blushed slightly. "No," she repeated calmly, and Hansel tried to ignore the warmth in his chest. "We watch each others backs, always, and that means sharing a room. Fuck the rest of it, okay?"

Hansel couldn't stop the grin from spreading across his face. "Yeah," he agreed, voice warm. "Fuck the rest of it."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Despite everything, Hansel felt better than he had in days. They settled their bedrolls into the cave and laid down to sleep, pressed against each other to ward off the cold. Gretel's hand snaked out from under her blankets and her fingers slid into his. He curled his hand around hers and went to sleep, warm and content.

The morning came with both of them in much better moods. They ate breakfast around the last dying embers of the fire then broke camp, pulling back onto the road. This time, Gretel leaned on Hansel, relaxed and still sleepy. He found himself wishing he could drive the dart with one hand, so he could run his fingers through her hair. It was probably safer that he couldn't.

They reached the next town that afternoon. It was smaller than the last one, but they also didn't seem to know who Hansel and Gretel were. That was refreshing; stories of their exploits had spread so far that it was rare they weren't recognized. They stopped at the inn and Gretel slapped down enough coins for a couple of nights. "My friend and I would like a room," she said, giving the inn keeper an almost challenging smile.

Hansel glanced at her with a frown. He understood why she might be reluctant to broadcast their sibling-hood after what had just happened but it felt wrong, being introduced as anything other than, "my brother, Hansel". Still, he didn't argue, just smiled when the inn keeper looked at him.

They took the key and headed up to the room. It was smaller than the last inn, and he didn't think the bed would hold both of them. Not unless they were sleeping much closer than they normally did. He dropped his bag on the floor as Gretel shut the door behind them.

"Sorry about that," she said, her tone brisk. "I'm not in the mood for any more trouble, you know?"

Hansel shrugged. "Not a problem, sis," he said. And it wasn't, not really.

She looked down at his bag on the floor, then at the bed. "We could switch off," she said. "Draw straws or flip a coin or -"

"Or we could share." Shit, he hadn't meant to say that. But he met her eyes with a casual look, as if he had.

Gretel watched him for a moment, appraising, chewing on her lip. But then she nodded. "Sure; it's still fucking cold at night."

He gave a short nod and turned away so she didn't see the little smile curling a corner of his mouth. "Well," he said, taking off his coat. "I think I'm gonna go find a drink. Wanna come?"

She shook her head. "I'll meet you there. I'm gonna change."

He gave a smile and nodded then left, shutting the door behind him.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The local tavern was a darker and dingier place than the last one. But the ale was strong and cheap and Hansel could find no fault in that. He picked a table in the corner and opened a tab, sitting and drinking and staring at the people around him. A busty woman in blue came over to set another ale in front of him. "You all alone here, handsome?" she asked.

Even Hansel couldn't mistake the inviting note in her voice. He let his eyes wander over her curly auburn hair, brown eyes, and ample breasts. Not bad for a shitty little town like that. He opened his mouth to reply – and stopped. Behind the woman, across the room, Gretel had just walked in.

Her hair was down, wavy and warm and glowing in the firelight. She was wearing her only dress, the one she'd been given as payment for a job a few years back. It was soft green and made her skin seem translucent. It took his breath away.

"Sir?" the woman prompted, looking a little less inviting now. He glanced up at her, about to tell her yes, he's alone, that's just his sister – except she wasn't his sister here. No one knew they were siblings. And he didn't have to defend or explain himself right now.

"No," he said, feeling something both twist and release inside him. "Sorry, sweetheart, my girl just walked in. I could use a drink for her, though." He raised a hand at Gretel and she smiled at him, bright and happy, and his heart stuttered painfully for a moment.

The woman glanced back and saw Gretel, then turned to Hansel with a disappointed twist to her mouth. "Right away, sir," she said, voice cool, and hurried away.

Gretel joined him a moment later, sliding into the booth beside him. She did it for the same reason he did: they could see every entrance and exit from there, and the entire bar and it's patrons. But knowing that didn't stop the slightly giddy feeling he got at being pressed against her in that dark corner. The barmaid reappeared and set down two more ales, a bit harder than was necessary. Gretel looked at Hansel with amusement as the woman walked away. "What's her problem?" she asked.

Hansel shrugged. "Told her I wasn't in the mood to catch syphilis. I don't think she liked that."

Gretel laughed and took a long pull from her ale. "You're an asshole."

"You love me," he quipped back.

"Yes, I do." Hansel turned, the warmth in her voice matched by the look in her eyes. She was watching him, open and sincere and it made him ache.

He cleared his throat. "So uh, what's with the dress?" he asked, taking a drink of his ale. "Got a hot date?"

She snorted. "Everything else was filthy; I paid the landlord's mother to wash my things. This was all I had left to wear. Don't be a dick."

"No, no, it's... it's good. It looks good on you." When she gave him a skeptical look, he added, "I mean, it's not exactly practical but hey, no one knows who we are here. No one's going to be hiring us; it's like a vacation."

Her eyes glittered as she smiled at him. "Yes it is," she said happily. "We should get drunk to celebrate." She lifted her hand and yelled, "Hey barwench! Four more ales!"

Hansel laughed and settled back in the booth, his arm stretching out behind Gretel. The ales were slammed down in front of them and they began their favorite drinking game – telling embarrassing stories of their childhood and trying to make each other blush. The harder you blush, the more you drink.

Half an hour and a few more ales later, they were on their way to hammered and still playing. "So..." Gretel swallowed and put a hand on Hansel's shoulder to steady herself. "So th-there you were, _naked_, buck ass _naked_, running through the trees with this – this stupid hick farmer chasing you with an honest to god pitchfork, screaming about how you sullied his precious daughter. And... and..." Gretel took a moment, laughing too hard to continue. She took a drink and gasped out, "And you were yelling behind you, trying to explain that she was still a virgin because you had been too drunk to get it up!" She cackled, her head falling back, then dropping into her hands.

Hansel took a long drink because yeah, that had been pretty humiliating. Especially the part afterward, when his sister had to rescue him from the farmer. He couldn't look away from Gretel though, the way her eyes shined, her cheeks flushed, her chest heaving as she panted and laughed. She set her ale down and looked at him expectantly, still covering up giggles.

It was his turn to make her blush. A few different stories tumbled through his head, though she had fewer than he did. But he was drunk and when he spoke, his voice was low and dark and heated and heavy. He said, "Goddamn, you are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Her smile turned into something confused, drunk and nervous. "What?" Her voice squeaked a little on the word.

Panic fluttered in Hansel's chest but he grabbed at Gretel's hands, hanging on as his mouth ran away with him. "Fuck, I'm sorry, I know, I know it's bad, it's my fault that fucking inn keeper kicked us out, it's my fault Gretel, because I am so fucking in love with you it's making me sick, I _am_ sick, I'm sorry." And then, because he couldn't go any lower, he leaned forward and kissed her. It was desperate and it hurt and he pulled back far too soon and when he did, the look on her face made his stomach rebel.

Gretel was pale, her eyes wide and scared and trapped, and she had never looked at him like that, like he was something she should fear. The full weight of what he'd just done hit him then and it took everything in him not to vomit. "Oh god," he choked out. He let go of her and struggled up out of the booth, swaying as the alcohol rushed to his head. "Oh fuck, I..." He stumbled forward towards the exit, out of the tavern and into the street. Gretel didn't follow, and she didn't call after him. She didn't even move.


End file.
